


Walls Will Fall (Before We Do)

by _backpages_ (backpages)



Category: Banlieue 13 (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backpages/pseuds/_backpages_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Taha and the bomb the situation in Banlieue 13 is worse than ever.  The wall is still standing, but so is Leïto, and not everyone in the city breaks their promises.</p>
<p>A different take on some of the events of Ultimatum, written before the movie was released.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not true, not mine, not for profit.
> 
> This is an AU version of the official sequel, originally posted as a trilogy on LJ before Ultimatum was released. It was based loosely on spoilers I read months in advance so does contain some elements of the film, but despite my wishful thinking turned out to be very much an alternate version. Titles and epigraphs are all lyrics by the Goo Goo Dolls, because they provided my writing soundtrack and I'm just that much of a dork.

 

_in uncertain times, the uncertain rules apply_

 

Leïto is trapped.  He crouches in the deepest shadows in the corner of the alley, taking sharp, gulping breaths, blood ringing in his ears.  Even with the added cover of darkness it’s a poor hiding place; any minute now he expects to see his pursuers swarming into the alley.  He can hear shouting and pounding footsteps, the screech of tires against damp pavement on a nearby street.  In vain he looks around again for an escape route, but the surrounding walls offer no footholds even for him.

 

Leïto fights the urge to shout a curse into the night.  He’s not quite desperate but he _is_ furious, because it isn’t supposed to end like this, dammit!  Not without finishing what he started, not without getting some answers to his questions.

 

He takes a steadying breath, preparing to make one last break for the street—better to go down fighting than get caught like a rat in trap.  But as he gets to his feet again a thin black rope suddenly drops into the alley from the rooftop many stories above him.  Leïto peers up into the darkness to see a pair of heavy boots appear over the edge of the roof, and then a lone cop wearing a helmet and riot gear starts rappelling swiftly down into the alley.

 

Leïto watches his oddly graceful descent impatiently, seeing instead his own way out.  His heart is pounding once more, his body already tensing for the inevitable fight, and yet…there’s something about the way the cop moves…

 

Leïto shrugs that thought aside, forcing himself to concentrate on his escape rather than the man providing the means.  But the cop halts his descent just out of reach to look down at Leïto, faint light from the street reflecting off his facemask when he speaks unexpectedly.

 

‘I don’t want to fight you again, Leïto,’ he says clearly, and the voice is unmistakably, impossibly familiar.

 

Leïto stares at him, too shocked to move as Damien drops to the ground, releases the rope, and removes his helmet.  Though it’s too dark to see his face clearly Leïto can make out the glint of pale blue eyes and the same cropped hair that he remembers from their last meeting.  His mind whirls with two years’ worth of questions, but there’s only time for one.

 

‘What are you doing here?’

 

Damien throws a quick look back at the street and keeps his voice low.  ‘Trying to save your life.’

 

Leïto’s disbelief must be obvious even in the dark because Damien steps toward him and speaks urgently, his face grim.

 

‘You’re surrounded, Leïto.’  He catches Leïto’s glance at the rope still hanging behind him and shakes his head.  ‘That’s no good.  There’s a sniper unit on the roofs.  If you try to run again they’ll shoot you.  The only way out is with me.’

 

‘I’m not going back to jail!’ retorts Leïto sharply.

 

‘If this works you won’t have to,’ Damien tells him.  He’s close enough now for Leïto to see his eyes, and the worry he glimpses in their depths startles him.  He feels some of his suspicion fading and has to take a step back.  He knows better than to let his guard down again.

 

‘Who’s holding the pit bull’s leash this time?’ he demands.

 

Damien flinches a little but doesn’t look away.  ‘Nobody,’ he says coolly.  ‘I’m not following orders, Leïto, I swear.’

 

‘You expect me to believe that?’ Leïto scoffs automatically.  The trouble is that somehow in spite of everything he _wants_ to believe it.

 

‘If I were following orders you’d be dead already!’ Damien snaps, then takes a breath and continues more calmly.  ‘Look, we don’t have time to argue.  I nearly blew two million people to hell because I didn’t believe you, remember?  Don’t be a fool like I was.  If you want to live you have to trust me.’

 

Leïto is silent, weighing his options.  Not that he really has any choice—Damien is definitely telling the truth about what will happen to Leïto if he runs, at least.  If everything else is a lie Leïto would rather fight one man than the small army gathering around the alley and besides…he’s tired of doubts, tired of feeling like everyone is an enemy.  Now, meeting Damien’s steady gaze, for the first time in years Leïto’s instincts are telling him that he might actually be looking at a friend instead.

 

‘What’s your plan?’ he asks at last.

 

Damien reaches for the handcuffs at his belt.  ‘I pretend to take you in, and we both walk out of here.’

 

Leïto could almost laugh.  ‘Just like old times,’ he mutters, but reluctantly nods his acceptance anyway and turns around to let Damien cuff his hands behind his back.

 

‘I’m going to call off the other units,’ says Damien, reaching for his earpiece, and when he speaks again his voice carries an unmistakable tone of command.

 

‘Attention all units!  This is Captain Tomaso.  I have the target in custody.  Stand down!  I repeat: Stand down—target is in custody.  I’m coming out.’

 

Damien draws his gun but leaves the safety on and faces Leïto again.  ‘Ready?’

 

Leïto lifts an eyebrow.  ‘I have a choice?’

 

‘No,’ admits Damien with a slight smirk.  He grips Leïto’s arm firmly, holds the gun against his throat, and starts marching him toward the street.  ‘Let’s go.’

 

As they near the end of the alley Leïto can hear low voices, hurrying footsteps, and the dull clank of heavy weapons.  He swallows hard, heart thumping painfully.  If this does turn out to be another ruse he knows there will be no escape this time.

 

Behind him Damien draws a deep breath and leans closer to speak against his ear.  ‘Don’t struggle unless they start to get suspicious,’ he warns quietly, ‘and if I have to hit you, stay down.’

 

‘Okay,’ Leïto whispers back, and then they’re out of the alley and staring into the barrels of a dozen guns.

 

Leïto lifts his chin, glaring his defiance at the hostile faces behind the weapons.  He recognizes some of the men who had been chasing him before and notices with satisfaction that one of them is limping and leaning heavily on a colleague.

 

‘Nice work, Captain,’ says the nearest officer, nodding at Damien.  ‘This one gave us a bit of trouble.’

 

‘So I see,’ Damien replies evenly.  ‘Any losses?’

 

The officer shakes his head.  ‘No, nothing worse than a sprain.’

 

‘Good,’ says Damien.  ‘Get back to headquarters and report.’  His voice hardens with disgust, though he gives Leïto’s arm a slight squeeze in warning.  ‘I’ll take this scum in myself.’

 

Leïto bristles as they expect him to, earning mocking laughter from the police while he jerks in Damien’s grip until he feels the barrel of the gun pressing harder against his throat.  It must be a convincing performance because the other officer asks Damien if he needs assistance.

 

‘No, I have a car,’ Damien dismisses him, shoving Leïto ahead of him toward the street.  ‘I’ll see you back at the station.’

 

The officer nods and turns away; a moment later Leïto hears him giving orders and the rest of the cops moving out.  Damien keeps them moving, seemingly unconcerned as they pass directly through the ranks of the last unit and emerge into the deserted cross-street.

 

‘Now what?’ asks Leïto under his breath.

 

‘Just keep walking,’ Damien hushes him, not letting go yet.

 

Leïto frowns, wondering exactly where Damien is taking him until he sees the patrol car parked further down the street.  He stiffens in alarm, all his suspicions returning with a sickening jolt.  Out of the corner of his eye he glimpses Damien turning to look back over his shoulder, then just before they reach the car he changes direction abruptly and pushes Leïto into the narrow space between two dilapidated buildings.

 

‘What the—?’ Leïto hisses angrily, wrenching free of Damien’s grasp to face him.  But Damien silences him with a look, putting out a hand to keep him hidden in the alley.

 

Leïto grits his teeth and waits, heartbeat stuttering beneath the palm against his chest while Damien peers cautiously around the side of the building into the street.  After a long moment the tense set of Damien’s shoulders eases slightly and he turns to Leïto again, holstering his gun.

 

‘We weren’t followed,’ he reports.  ‘They’ve all cleared out.’  His hand goes to his belt and Leïto unconsciously recoils, eyeing him warily.  Now that he’s not a second away from being shot he has time to consider exactly how and why Damien found him, and he doesn’t like any of the conclusions that come to mind.

 

‘What are you doing?’

 

Damien rolls his eyes, pulling out a set of keys and gesturing toward Leïto’s cuffed hands.  ‘What does it look like, asshole?’  He nudges Leïto around and releases the handcuffs, tucking them back into his belt.

 

‘Thanks,’ mutters Leïto, rubbing the feeling back into his wrists before facing Damien again.  ‘Now tell me why you’re really here.’

 

Damien stares at him.  ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?  In case you missed it I just saved your dumb ass!’

 

‘Maybe,’ Leïto admits, ‘but for what?  So you could just let me go?’  He shakes his head, unconvinced.  ‘No way.  You’d lose your job!’

 

Damien blinks, an unreadable expression flickering over his face.  ‘You think that’s all I care about?’

 

‘I don’t know,’ says Leïto, and the resentment in his own voice surprises him.  ‘You tell me.’

 

Damien huffs in exasperation.  ‘I just want to do what’s right, Leïto.  I always have.’  He comes close enough to look Leïto in the eye.  ‘I may live on the other side of the wall but I’m still on your side in this war,’ he says firmly.  ‘That hasn’t changed, whatever you might think.’

 

‘What do you expect me to think?’ counters Leïto, stepping back again.  ‘After all this time you conveniently show up out of nowhere, just to save me from jail?  We’ve been here before, _Fantômas_.’

 

‘That was different,’ Damien insists.  ‘I told you before, I’m not following orders this time.’

 

Leïto hesitates, searching Damien’s face.  It would be so much easier to accept his help, such a huge fucking relief to simply believe him.   Yet Leïto has learned exactly how cruel and dangerous hope can be.  He’s been counting the cost of one false dawn every day for two years and he can’t afford to be duped again.

 

Damien is watching him, expectant; when Leïto doesn’t answer he sighs wearily, something oddly close to hurt glinting in his eyes.

 

‘You still don’t trust me,’ he says flatly.

 

‘I did, once,’ Leïto tells him.  ‘But you went back to your nice life on the other side of the wall, and now things here are even worse than before.’

 

‘My nice life?’ Damien repeats with a hollow laugh.  ‘Open your eyes, Leïto.’  He’s angry now, frustrated, and his words have an unexpected bitter edge.  ‘You’re not the only one who got a raw deal when the wall didn’t come down.  Do you really think I like what’s happening to this city?  Do you think I like taking orders from men who twist the laws I swore an oath to defend?  No, no chance, but nothing is as simple as you think.  What happened with Krüger was only the beginning.’

 

Leïto starts in surprise and Damien nods, face hard.  ‘You were right about one thing.  It _is_ worse than before.  I’ve been trying to find out who’s pulling the strings, but I’ve already been reassigned twice.  I know I’m being watched, and it’s only a matter of time before they get rid of me for good.’

 

Leïto stands in dazed silence, feeling as if he’s been punched in the face.  He’s been so blinded by his own rage that he never thought to wonder if Damien might know something about broken promises, too.  Now with a stab of guilt he feels his assumptions crumbling and for the first time notices how exhausted Damien looks, the shadows beneath his eyes and new lines on his face.  The years of silence are beginning to make sense in a way they never did before, but there’s still something Leïto doesn’t understand.

 

‘Then why do you stay?’ he asks softly.

 

‘Because I have a job to do,’ says Damien resolutely.  ‘I meant what I said that day at the blockade.  I’m here to make sure the government doesn’t forget its promises, and I’m not going to quit just because whoever’s in charge is weak or corrupt or too fucking stupid to defend the values I believe in.  And besides, there are still people in this city who need protection, people who need help.’  He looks pointedly at Leïto.  ‘Like you did tonight.’

 

Leïto shifts uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of how little he’d done to deserve that help and how badly he’d misjudged Damien in exchange.  ‘Damien…’ he starts, groping for the words to explain his mistrust.

 

‘Anyway,’ Damien cuts him off, ‘being on the force is the best way to get information about who’s really behind all this.  Unless of course you think your technique of blowing shit up and getting shot at is working out better.’

 

Leïto winces at that, though he knows Damien’s temper is justified.  ‘No,’ he confesses, shaking his head, ‘I don’t really like that method much.’   He sighs, meeting Damien’s eyes and fumbling for a way to make amends.  ‘Look, Damien,’ he begins, ‘you’re right.  I should have believed you.  I just…I didn’t know what to think.  When the wall didn’t come down, and you never came back…I figured you’d turned your back on Banlieue 13 like everyone else.’

 

‘Well you figured wrong,’ says Damien.  He doesn’t sound angry anymore, just very tired and a little sad.  ‘I would never turn my back on you, Leïto,’ he adds quietly.  ‘You saved my life, remember?’

 

‘Yeah,’ Leïto nods, smiling slightly.  He’s never been good at apologies but he holds out a hand between them, hoping Damien will understand what he can’t find the words to say.  ‘I guess we’re even.’

 

‘For now,’ Damien amends wryly, his face finally relaxing into an answering smile as he takes Leïto’s offered hand.  But there’s something more than forgiveness in his eyes, something that Leïto first glimpsed when they parted at the blockade and that he’s spent the last two years trying to forget.  He ignores the sudden strange ache in his chest and lets go of Damien’s hand, concentrating on settling his jumbled thoughts.

 

‘So how did you find me?’ he asks.

 

Damien raises an eyebrow.  ‘Planting bombs isn’t exactly the best way to avoid attention,’ he points out.  ‘And you’re being watched too, or hadn’t you noticed?  How do you think all those units found you so fast tonight?’

 

‘I didn’t exactly have time to think about it,’ Leïto recalls dryly.

 

‘They’ve been trying to track you for a while,’ Damien explains.  ‘I would have warned you, but I couldn’t take the chance that I might lead them right to you if I tried to make contact.’

 

‘Then why’d you risk it tonight?’ wonders Leïto.

 

‘Because I knew you were dead if I didn’t,’ says Damien shortly, voice suddenly strained, and the look on his face makes Leïto’s pulse jump again.  ‘I overheard plans to call in the DISS.’

 

Leïto whistles under his breath.  ‘Shit.’

 

‘Exactly.  And we’re not out of it yet,’ Damien reminds him, glancing at his watch.  ‘We don’t have much time before the squad realizes I haven’t reported back.’

 

‘Then what’s your plan?’ asks Leïto.  ‘You can’t really just let me go.’

 

‘I didn’t have time to come up with anything better,’ flares Damien sharply.  ‘I’ll say some friends of yours jumped me on the way to the car and you got away.’

 

Leïto frowns.  ‘You really think they’ll believe that?’

 

‘Maybe not,’ Damien concedes, ‘but it’s worth a try.  It might buy me more time to investigate from the inside.  If not…’ He shrugs.  ‘Either I’m dead or I finally find out what it’s like to be on your side of the wall.’

 

Leïto swallows, his stomach twisting painfully at the realization of exactly how much Damien has risked tonight, how much he still stands to lose.  He can’t help wondering why Damien is willing to sacrifice so much for him even after the years of distance and his own foolish doubts.  The odd tightness in his chest tells him those thoughts lead somewhere he’s better off not going, but whatever Damien’s reasons Leïto doesn’t like the idea of him putting himself in more danger.

 

‘I’ve made my choices, Leïto,’ Damien assures him quietly when he starts to speak, forestalling any other objections.  ‘Now if this is going to work it has to look real.’  He comes closer and tilts his face slightly, gesturing at his jaw.  ‘Hit me.’

 

Leïto blinks.  An hour ago he would have jumped at the chance to hurt Damien, to pay back the years of wrestling with the sickening ache of betrayal.  Yet now that he knows the truth hitting Damien is the very last thing he wants to do.

 

‘What are you waiting for?’ asks Damien impatiently.  ‘You never had a problem punching me before!’

 

‘That was different,’ retorts Leïto, but he clenches his fist and takes a swing at Damien’s chin.

 

Damien barely bats an eye.  ‘Is that it?’ he smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.  ‘What happened to all that hate you once told me about?’

 

‘I’m saving it for a special occasion,’ Leïto glares.  Then he closes his eyes, thinking of the men hunting him tonight and those behind badges and desks who give the orders that are destroying his home.  Familiar rage coils in his gut and he swings his fist again.

 

This time Damien staggers backward and Leïto’s knuckles come away smeared with blood.  Damien prods gingerly at the side of his face where the skin split above his cheekbone, nodding his satisfaction. 

 

‘Good enough,’ he pronounces briskly.  ‘But even if they buy my story it will only give you a little time, Leïto.  You need to get someplace safe and stay there, lie low for a while.’

 

‘I will,’ Leïto agrees with a sigh.  He’s never liked hiding, especially not when there’s still so much work to do, but he’s not about to repay Damien by taking stupid chances.

 

‘Good,’ Damien nods.  ‘You should change clothes as soon as you can,’ he adds, eyeing Leïto’s bare arms.  ‘Cover the ink, wear a hood.  In fact…’ He checks his watch again.  ‘Help me with this gear, I have an idea.’  He starts unfastening his riot vest, yanking it off over his head and shoving it into Leïto’s hands.

 

‘What are you doing?’ asks Leïto, watching Damien hastily unbuttoning the top of his uniform.

 

‘Improving your odds,’ answers Damien, shrugging out of his sleeves.  Beneath the uniform he’s wearing a faded long-sleeved undershirt, and as he peels it off Leïto glimpses a thin scar running crosswise under his ribs.  Briefly he wonders about the explanation behind it, and if he’ll ever get a chance to hear it.

 

‘Put this on, it’ll do for now,’ Damien interrupts his thoughts, handing him the undershirt in exchange for the riot vest.

 

Leïto quickly pulls the shirt on over his tank.  ‘Thanks.’

 

‘Just do me a favor,’ says Damien, voice muffled for a moment as he struggles back into the heavy vest.  ‘From now on, at least try to be less conspicuous.  And for fuck’s sake don’t pull any more stunts like tonight.’  He smiles slightly, eyes glinting in the darkness.  ‘I have better things to do than save your ass all the time.’

 

With an effort Leïto returns the smile, throat tight with all the things he doesn’t have time to say.  ‘I’m out of bombs anyway,’ he manages instead.

 

Damien snorts, swatting him lightly on the shoulder.  ‘Just get out of here before the DISS find us both.’

 

‘I will,’ says Leïto, but before he goes he reaches out to grasp Damien’s hand tightly.  ‘Damien, I…’ he begins, then falters, knowing words will never be sufficient apology or appreciation.  ‘Thanks,’ he finishes simply.

 

‘You don’t owe me anything, Leïto,’ says Damien, gripping his hand with equal strength and meeting his gaze solemnly.  ‘Just remember that you’re not fighting alone.  I won’t give up, I swear.’

 

‘I know.’  Leïto’s voice sounds tinny over the ringing in his ears as he finally lets go, forcing himself to turn from the promise in Damien’s eyes and walk away.

 

He can’t do it.  Halfway to the street Leïto stops, his decision made.  What he has in mind would be dangerous even at the best of times, but he knows he might not get another chance and he’s never been afraid of taking risks.  Swiftly he turns and retraces his steps until he’s face to face with Damien again.

 

‘What—?’ starts Damien, before Leïto curls a hand around the nape of his neck and leans in to smother the rest of his question.  Damien stands frozen in shock for a moment, then takes a stumbling step backward and grips Leïto’s shoulders with both hands to push him away.

 

‘Are you crazy?’ he demands, eyes wide.  They stare at each other, breath hitching, shaken by the undeniable surge of heat between them.  And maybe Leïto _is_ a little crazy, or maybe they both are, because in the next heartbeat Damien shoves him back against the wall and crushes their mouths together again.

 

Damien kisses the same way he fights, no quarter given and none expected in return.  Leïto clutches at him fiercely, feeling muscle bunching beneath the uniform and Damien shuddering against him, rough hands fisting into his borrowed shirt.  Leïto groans and strains closer, his own hands sliding up to clench around Damien’s shoulders.  The riot vest is rigid and awkward between them, buckles pressing painfully into Leïto’s ribs, but he doesn’t care.  Suddenly the years of doubts don’t seem to matter now with Damien’s mouth on his, hot and hungry and finally giving him the answer he’s been aching for through all the months of silence.

 

The wail of a siren, not close yet but getting louder, makes them both start.  Leïto stifles a moan of protest as Damien drags his mouth away, glassy-eyed and shaking.  Leïto’s fingers are still twisted into the uniform; he loosens his grip and leans back enough to rest his forehead against Damien’s while he tries to catch his breath.

 

‘They’re coming,’ says Damien hoarsely.  ‘You have to go.’

 

‘I know,’ pants Leïto, heart still hammering wildly in his chest.  The siren is definitely closer now, and joined by the drone of a helicopter.  But Leïto doesn’t move, trying to read Damien’s expression in the dark.  ‘Damien…’

 

‘I’ll find you,’ Damien promises, holding his gaze steadily, and this time Leïto believes him.  He knows now that he isn’t the only one with regrets.  Then Damien takes a stuttering breath and steps back, giving him a push toward the street.  ‘Go!’

 

Leïto turns away, stumbling almost blindly to the end of the alley.  He feels light-headed, somehow exhilarated and furious at the same time.  It’s not fair, he thinks angrily, that after all the misunderstandings and wasted time now that he’s finally found what he’s been missing he might lose it again with one false step.  But that’s not going to happen, he swears silently, fists clenching.  He’ll do whatever he must to survive what’s coming, whatever it takes to make sure they face the end of this war together.

 

At the corner of the building Leïto pauses to check the street, his mind already racing with possibilities for the best route home.  The helicopter is still out of sight and the road is empty; he’ll be at least a few blocks away by the time any cops reach the alley.  As he starts to leave the safety of the shadows Damien calls out after him, and Leïto glances over his shoulder to catch his last warning.

 

‘Don’t get shot.’  It’s partly a command, partly a plea, and then Damien suddenly flashes an improbable smile.  ‘I want my shirt back.’

 

Impossibly, Leïto feels a laugh rising in his throat.  ‘Deal,’ he grins, and disappears into the darkness without looking back.


	2. Walls Will Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien keeps his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not true, not mine, not for profit.

 

_and I'll stay with you/the walls will fall before we do_

 

When Leïto finally returns to his apartment—he’s had to backtrack three times and ditch the DISS once—with the diskette from Samir safely in hand, there’s a man waiting in the living room, silhouetted against the window.  Leïto’s half a step into an instinctive attack before he realizes who the intruder is.  Damien’s not wearing a uniform, just civilian clothes and a worried expression quickly hidden behind a tight smile.

 

‘I was starting to think they’d finally caught you,’ he says, turning away from the window.

 

‘Not yet.’  Leïto answers automatically.  His heart is racing, and not from dodging the cops.  ‘I didn’t know your police manual covered breaking and entering.’

 

Damien’s mouth quirks.  ‘I’ve picked up a few things undercover.’   Then his smirk fades and for the first time Leïto notices his slightly swollen lip and the bruises darkening his knuckles.  ‘And I’m done playing by the rules,’ he adds grimly.

 

‘What happened?’ Leïto frowns, indicating Damien’s battered hands.

 

‘Someone sent a unit to arrest me this morning,’ Damien says, voice hard.  ‘They were trying to set me up.’

 

Leïto feels sick.  He’d been fearing something like that might happen to Damien, but expecting it doesn’t make the betrayal any easier to take.  ‘How’d you get away?’ he asks, though the cold anger in Damien’s eyes is answer enough.

 

‘It was only one unit,’ says Damien shortly.  ‘Where’s Lola?’

 

‘Safe,’ Leïto tells him simply.  Or as safe as she _can_ be, anyway, given what he knows is coming.

 

‘Good.’  Some of the tension leaves Damien’s features but the firm set of his jaw remains as he continues.  ‘I found out what’s going on, Leïto.  I know what they’re planning to do, and when.’

 

‘Let me guess,’ says Leïto.  ‘We don’t have much time.’

 

Damien shakes his head.  ‘No.  If we don’t find a way to stop them they’re going to bomb Banlieue 13 tomorrow morning,’ he says bluntly.

 

Leïto blinks, his mind reeling.  He’s long had his suspicions about how far the government would be willing to go but it’s still a shock to hear such a drastic plot confirmed.  With an effort he controls his anger and tries to concentrate on the next step.

 

‘Do you have a plan?’

 

‘Not yet,’ admits Damien, ‘but I’m working on it.  That’s why I’m here.  One of the reasons, anyway,’ he amends quietly.

 

Leïto swallows thickly, remembering their last meeting in the alley.  The look in Damien’s eyes tells him he’s not the only one who wants to finish what they started that night, but right now neither of them can afford to lose focus.

 

‘I might have an idea,’ Leïto says, thinking quickly.  ‘There’s something you should see, and there are some people you need to meet.’

 

‘Friends of yours?’ Damien asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

‘Not exactly,’ concedes Leïto.  ‘But we have mutual enemies.’

 

‘Close enough,’ nods Damien with a smile like steel.  ‘Let’s go.’

 

~~~~~~~~

 

It’s well after dark by the time they get back to the apartment.  Damien waits for Leïto to turn on a lamp, then crosses the room to look out the window.  Leïto joins him, their shoulders brushing slightly, and follows Damien’s gaze to the streets below.

 

‘It’s funny,’ Damien says softly after a moment.  ‘Things don’t look so bad from up here.’

 

He’s right, Leïto realizes.  Darkness disguises the burned out cars and graffitied walls, hides the garbage cluttering the streets and masks the fear and despair on the faces of the few people brave enough to venture out at night.  If it weren’t for the wall looming in the distance, Leïto’s neighborhood would look like any other in Paris.  But the government isn’t planning to bomb the other departments, and Leïto shakes his head bitterly.

 

‘Too bad your pals at 36* don’t see it that way.’

 

Damien looks at him then, face drawn yet determined in the dim light.  ‘They will,’ he promises.  ‘We’ll make them set things right.’

 

 _Or die trying_ , he doesn’t say, though they both know that’s the most probable outcome.  Yet Leïto has learned that there are worse things than death; he’s already lived through a few of them.  And despite the odds against them, despite all the risks and uncertainties, when he meets Damien’s eyes somehow he can believe that their plan will actually succeed.

 

He knows Damien doesn’t really trust Molko and Tao and the others, and Leïto’s not exactly thrilled with the arrangement either.  But they have no other choice.  For better or worse this is their last chance to make a difference.  They have to take it, no matter how crazy it seems, and hope their desperate gamble pays off when the time comes.  Until then all they can do is wait.

 

Leïto hates waiting.  Silently he turns to study the man beside him.  Damien is staring out the window again but his gaze is unfocused and Leïto knows he’s still thinking about what will happen in the morning.  He can see exhaustion in the slope of Damien’s shoulders and the shadows beneath his eyes, and Leïto’s own body feels heavy with the same weariness.  Yet drained as they are he can tell sleep will not come easily to either of them tonight.

 

And there’s something else, something that’s been humming between them all day.  Now, with nothing left to do or say, no more reasons to push it aside, Leïto doesn’t want to ignore it any longer.  Damien seems to guess the direction of his thoughts because he shivers slightly and his voice hitches when he speaks.

 

‘We should try to get some rest,’ he says quietly, not looking at Leïto.

 

‘I don’t want to sleep,’ Leïto tells him, and shifts so that Damien can’t avoid his gaze.

 

Damien’s breath catches softly as the uncertainty on his face fades quickly into yearning.  He moves closer, near enough for Leïto to sense his trembling and hear the smile behind his murmured question.

 

‘You have something else in mind?’

 

‘I might,’ Leïto nods, and leans in to close the remaining distance between them.

 

Damien’s mouth opens under his and he returns the kiss hungrily, crushing them together from shoulder to thigh, fists clenching into the back of Leïto’s tank.  Leïto stumbles backward a little before he regains his balance, clutching at Damien hard enough to bruise.  And it’s even better than before, because this time there’s no riot gear between them.  This time Leïto can feel Damien’s warmth, the pounding of his heart and the way muscle tenses and relaxes as he starts tugging at their clothes.

 

When Damien’s hands find bare skin Leïto jerks away with a gasp.  ‘ _Bed_ ,’ he pants against Damien’s throat, trying to press closer and steer them across the room at the same time.

 

Damien doesn’t let go either; still tangled together they somehow stagger the few steps to Leïto’s bedroom.  It’s dark except for the glow of the city lights through the window and they find the bed by crashing into it.  Damien grunts in pain as Leïto lands on top of him, though he’s already fumbling at Leïto’s tank, clumsy with haste.  Leïto leans away enough to peel the tank over his head and toss it aside, turning back to find Damien staring at him.  Even in the dimness the look in Damien’s eyes is unmistakable, sending a jolt of heat through Leïto from head to toe.

 

He stills, breath stuttering, as Damien reaches out and slowly slides unsteady hands up his sides, tracing the ink on his chest and shoulders.  It’s been a long time since he last let anyone touch him, let anyone really _see_ him the way Damien is now.  And Damien does see him, not just where he’s from or what he’s done—what he’s had to do—to survive there.  Leïto can’t remember the last time anyone bothered to look at him that way, or the last time he wanted anyone to try.

 

Damien’s still watching him, breathing shallow and uneven, his hands completing their exploration.  He spreads his palms against Leïto’s back, pressing down until Leïto bends to lock their mouths together again.  Both of them are shaking and the kiss is a little bit desperate, rough and messy and perfect.  Leïto shoves his hands under Damien’s shirt, bunching the material out of the way and shuddering as hot skin finally touches his.  He’s never felt anything better than Damien straining against him, all callused hands and easy strength; it’s too much yet still not nearly enough.  Almost dizzy with want he yanks blindly at the shirt now caught between them, groaning in frustration.

 

Damien’s low laugh is a faint rumble over the ringing in his ears and then suddenly Leïto finds himself on his back, watching impatiently as Damien wriggles out of the stubborn shirt and lets it fall to the floor.  It’s not dark enough to hide the livid bruises scattered across his torso and familiar fury twists Leïto’s gut at the sight.  But his anger is swiftly forgotten when Damien settles against him once more and starts mouthing a searing trail from collarbone to throat.

 

Leïto shivers violently and arches beneath him, earning a muffled moan as his hands map the firm planes of Damien’s back around to the hollow below his ribs.  The scar he’d glimpsed once before is a thin ridge against his palm and Leïto thinks fleetingly that maybe if they both live through tomorrow he’ll learn the story behind it.  But for now he draws Damien up to face him again, and then their mouths are fusing in another fierce kiss, and Damien’s hands are like a brand on his body, burning away all thoughts of anything else.  As demanding fingers curl around his hips Leïto stops worrying about maybes and tomorrows, stops thinking about anything beyond this moment.  For this small, stolen measure of time Damien is all he knows, and all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *36 refers to the headquarters of the Direction Régionale de Police Judiciaire de Paris (DRPJ Paris), located at 36, quai des Orfèvres.


	3. Where We Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not true, not mine, not for profit.

 

_the end of fear is where we begin_

When Damien wakes for a few disconcerting seconds he doesn’t know where he is, only that he hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  He’s tired and bruised as he often is during or after an assignment but he doesn’t remember being undercover.  He’s also sore in some interesting places, he realizes then, and his skin heats as memory returns abruptly.  Damien waits for his heartbeat to slow to normal, then rolls over in Leïto’s bed.

 

The space beside him is cool and empty.  A hollow feeling rises in the back of Damien’s throat until he sees Leïto standing at the window, dimly silhouetted against the lights of the city, the tattoos scattered over his body visible only as indistinct black shapes.  Damien has rarely seen him so still and never so unguarded; he finds his gaze lingering on stubborn features and welcomes the chance to study Leïto for a moment.

 

There’s a new tattoo on Leïto’s left arm, a scar on his cheekbone that wasn’t there two years ago.  More than a few other marks, both old and new, are dotted across his back and shoulders, pale against weathered skin and black ink.  Damien’s eyes follow the paths his hands have already mapped and with a familiar rush of resentment he adds each wound to his tally of reasons to despise what his government has become.  He knows Leïto bears deeper scars, too, the kind that he can’t see, and maybe some of those are Damien’s fault, in a way.  But he’s doing his best to make things right and Leïto has shown in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t bear a grudge.

 

Damien feels his pulse quickening again, remembering.  He thinks suddenly of his colleagues on the force, the ones who used to tease him about wanting to be a hero and trying to clean up the city by himself.  He imagines what they would say if they knew how he’s been spending his time, conspiring with criminals and literally in bed with the kind of guy he’s spent his entire career trying to put behind bars.

 

But Damien hasn’t thought of Leïto that way in a long time.  Beneath all the ink and attitude is a man who wants the same things he does, who’s willing to fight for those ideals the way Damien has all his life.  As improbable as it seems they’ve always been allies in this war, even before they knew each other and even if they still disagree about which tactics work best.  Besides, so much has changed since he first met Leïto, including Damien himself.  So many things he once thought he knew have been turned upside-down, until somewhere along the way trusting Leïto became the only thing that still makes sense.

 

And right from the first there’s been something beyond the kinship of soldiers between them, though perhaps Damien was slow to recognize it.  He feels a connection with Leïto that he hasn’t felt with anyone else in years.  Somehow Leïto understands him, sees the man behind all the masks just as he saw through ‘Fantômas’ the day they met.  It’s a relief to be recognized as himself, to be just Damien and not dutiful Captain Tomaso or some criminal’s lackey.  Despite what Damien’s colleagues would think it’s not actually a surprise that he ended up here instead of back in his apartment on the other side of the wall, in the bed that’s always empty and the dusty rooms that have never really felt like home.  Maybe the only real surprise is how long it took him to get here.

 

Damien sighs.  It’s too late for regrets now.  He follows Leïto’s gaze out the window where the sky remains dark and faint stars flicker on the horizon beyond the lights of the city.  There are still a few hours yet before dawn, before they have to make their last desperate throw of the dice.  Damien has no illusions about the odds they will face then.  As a soldier he knows he should be thinking over their strategies again, examining every detail and considering every possible complication.  It doesn’t matter that they’ve already gone over the plan a dozen times because there is never any excuse to assume they’ve thought of everything that might go wrong.

 

Yet now, lying in Leïto’s rumpled bed, the focus that has kept Damien alive on even the riskiest assignments completely deserts him.  All he can think about is the slide of skin against skin and Leïto’s hands on him, strong and sure in the darkness.  This one night may be their first and last taste of all that might have been, and he has no intention of wasting it.

 

Damien sits up, stretching a little gingerly, and Leïto turns to face him.  For a moment he’s silent, just looking, then—

 

‘You snore,’ he observes casually. ‘Maybe I should kick you out.’  His eyes glint; it’s too dark to see their expression but Damien can hear the smile in his voice as Leïto comes back to bed.

 

‘Maybe you should try,’ he replies evenly, settling more comfortably into the pillows.  Leïto grins at the challenge, a flash of white in the dim, and leans right into Damien’s space, not touching but close enough for Damien to feel the heat of his skin.  Damien wills himself not to move, though his heart is already hammering painfully in his chest and the look on Leïto’s face is making his breath hitch.

 

‘Maybe I have a better idea,’ Leïto says, his voice a low hum against Damien’s jaw, and curls both hands around his shoulders to pin him down.

 

This time the kiss is unhurried, lingering and long enough to leave them both gasping.  Damien lets his hands slide over the contours of Leïto’s back, feeling muscle bunch and quiver under his touch, Leïto’s heart beating as fiercely as his own.  It’s heady, knowing he can affect Leïto this way, and the small part of his mind that can still think coherently with Leïto’s mouth on his wonders how he managed to survive so long without this.

 

He’s embarrassingly light-headed by the time Leïto releases him and draws away, panting.  Damien takes a few uneven breaths of his own and when he opens his eyes Leïto is looking at him thoughtfully, brows knitting at the sight of the bruises still darkening on his body.  The morning’s fight seems like a lifetime ago now as Leïto reaches out and runs his hands slowly over purpled skin.  His palms are rough with calluses but his touch is surprisingly light, almost tentative.  Damien shivers.

 

‘How did you get this?’ Leïto asks him softly, fingertips brushing the long scar beneath his ribs.

 

Damien glances down at the scar, seeing instead the sudden flash of a knife and his own blood welling hot and bright against the blade.  After all this time he still feels an echo of pain at the memory.

 

‘I…overestimated my last partner,’ he says finally.

 

‘He betrayed you?’  Leïto’s voice is hard with anger, his body suddenly tense and hands still.

 

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Damien assures him quickly.  ‘Marcel was a good cop, he just…couldn’t always keep his cool in a fight.’  He sighs, remembering other close calls, his partner laughing off his concern and attempted warnings.  If only he’d tried harder to make Marcel see the risk he was taking…

 

‘What happened?’ prompts Leïto, interrupting that familiar, futile line of thought.

 

‘One night he made a mistake,’ Damien answers simply.  ‘I got this,’ he draws a finger along the scar, ‘and Marcel’s wife got a nice wreath of flowers from the squad.’

 

Leïto swears under his breath.  ‘And you’ve worked alone since then?’ he asks quietly after a moment.

 

Damien nods.  ‘It was easier that way.  I used to think so, anyway,’ he adds, throat tightening when he catches the intensity in Leïto’s gaze.

 

Eyes never leaving his, Leïto leans forward until they are nearly nose to nose and says, ‘You think too much.’

 

Damien has a response to that but Leïto is already moving and all that comes out is a gasp, quickly smothered as Leïto bends to fuse their mouths again.  His body is heavy and hard against Damien’s, nothing like a woman’s; it should be strange but instead it just feels right.  More than right, actually.  Damien bites back a moan when Leïto’s mouth dips to the sensitive spot below his jaw, stubble rasping lightly across his throat.  He clutches Leïto’s shoulders with unsteady hands, fingertips leaving new marks on inked skin, until Leïto draws away enough to whisper a ragged question.

 

‘How much time do we have left?’

 

Damien swallows thickly, heart stuttering in his chest.  The urgency that had gripped them both before has faded but the same heat, the same hunger coils in his gut when he hears the raw need in Leïto’s voice.

 

‘Long enough,’ he decides, tugging Leïto down again.

 

Leïto’s arms tighten around him immediately yet Damien kisses him slowly, struggling to master his own yearning, because if this is to be their only night together he’s determined to savor it.  He senses Leïto holding back too, returning his kiss as if they have all the time in the world even when they’re both shaking with want.  Damien twists trembling fingers into messy hair, fits his other hand to the curve of Leïto’s hip.  He can’t stop himself from straining closer and Leïto makes a broken, needy sound in the back of his throat, molding his body to Damien’s like he was made for just that purpose.

 

Damien shudders violently, breathless and aching.  He’s still not used to _wanting_ like this, to losing control this easily, this completely.  It’s almost unbearable, even terrifying, and just as unexpected as the way Leïto so clearly wants him too.  And maybe he never will get used to it, but Damien knows he will do anything it takes to make sure he has the chance to try.

 


End file.
